Context for the conversation between me and Jack this morning:
Jack likes to take his sweet old time in the shower. This morning, I feared he’d run out of warm water since Aaron and I both had taken showers, so I told him to get a move on it. I asked him if he ever had taken a cold shower, and he said no. I said that he didn’t want to find out what it was like this morning.
Jack: How old were you when you had to take a cold shower?
Mom: I’ve taken many cold showers through my whole life.
*Silence as Jack thinks this through.*
Jack: Mom, did you have to take cold showers because bathtubs weren’t invented? Like did you have to wash in a bucket?
Mom: NO! Are you serious?
Jack: Well…yes. I mean you aren’t grandma old, but you are old.
Mom: I am huh?
When my parents were in their twenties and thirties, I always thought of them as young. Maybe it was in their mid-thirties that my idea of “young” changed. I guess it is only downhill from here.
I must have been overly distracted by this conversation because both Jack and I completely forgot his breakfast this morning! I had already seered a beef roast, cut vegetables and packed two lunches by the time he woke up, but I forgot his breakfast. As we were about to go out the door, he asked if he could have a pop tart. (I keep them for Aaron.) I said, “OH my God! We forgot your breakfast!”
Bad mom, bad mom, bad mom. At least he was clean and dressed when he went to school!
